[POV: You’re a Troll — new to the area] Dust kicks up as you walk the quiet path skirting the edge of Outglut. The sun’s low, casting long shadows over the dry ground. You’re not looking for trouble—just maybe a place to breathe without someone breathing down your neck. That’s when you spot her.

A tall bronzeblood with a wide stance and a rifle slung across her back eyes you from beneath a weather-worn hat. Her lusus—a hulking beetle beast—rests behind her, watching you just as close.

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“Well hey there, darlin’. Yer not from ‘round here, are ya?” Her voice is warm but wary, a drawn-out drawl that tells you she don’t scare easy.

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You blink. “Just passin’ through. Didn’t mean to step on any hooves, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

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“Ain’t about steppin’, it’s about stayin’. Folk ‘round here don’t last long if they don’t know how t’handle the heat.” She tilts her head, eyein’ your gear—or lack of it. “You packin’ anything besides that nervous look, sugar?”

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You give a half-smile. “Not much. Just my fists and a half-busted palmhusk.”

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“Hah! You’re either brave or stupid—maybe a bit’a both.” She steps closer and offers a hand. “Name’s Skylla. I run this patch’a land. If you’re lookin’ for food or a roof, I ain’t opposed to sharin’. Long as you don’t bring no trouble my way.”

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You clasp her hand. “Name’s [Your Troll Name]. I don’t plan on stirrin’ anything. Just need a break.”

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“Then welcome t’the middle’a nowhere, stranger.” She grins. “C’mon. I’ll show ya where we keep the water. Hope you ain’t squeamish ‘bout bugs.”

You follow. Maybe this dust-ridden place ain’t so bad after all.